


Catbread in Hiding

by der_tanzer



Series: Catbread [12]
Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-20
Updated: 2010-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-09 15:02:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one shoots the moon on a hold hand.  Or so they say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catbread in Hiding

**Author's Note:**

> Some Nick h/c, for all those patiently waiting.  
> Thanks to Tinx_r for the card game.

Murray woke in the stillness of early morning, balanced precariously on the edge of his bunk with Quinlan hugging him loosely from behind. He thought about waking him to share this morning, and then didn't. After the last few days, Murray figured everyone needed as much rest as they could get. So he eased out from under the heavy arm, put on his robe, gathered some clothes, and slipped out to get his shower before anyone else woke. He thought his friends must be very tired if the running water didn't disturb them, but they were still sleeping when he finished. Well, they were still in their cabin, anyway. He declined to speculate any further.

Instead, he went to the galley and put on coffee. It was after seven and they'd gone to bed fairly early, so he figured it was just about breakfast time. The guys had gone to the store yesterday and the cupboards were well stocked, so he started mixing pancakes. They were sweet and filling and probably good for him in his weakened state. He began heating the electric skillet and laid strips of bacon in a frying pan on the stove. A little meat would be good, too.

But he didn't start the food actually cooking until he heard movement at the other end of the boat. The guys were talking quietly, maybe worried about disturbing him, but they got louder when they saw the mess he'd left in the head. He felt a slight twinge of guilt and ignored it. He was making breakfast; they could pick up his towels. Then the fresh water pump started and he knew they were in the shower. He turned on the fire under the bacon and began ladling pancake batter into the skillet. The syrup was in a glass bottle so he set it in the middle of the stove where the heat from the burner would warm it a little. He liked his syrup cold, but no one else did.

There was a stack of buttered pancakes ready when the guys came in and he turned up the fire to speed up the bacon a little. Nick liked his practically burnt and Cody was almost as bad.

"What, no eggs?" Cody teased, pouring a cup of coffee.

"You don't need eggs with pancakes. They're in the batter already," Murray said reasonably.

"Never argue content with a scientist," Nick reminded him. "At least not before you've had your second cup."

"I can't tell if that was an insult or not," Murray said.

"If it helps, neither can I," Cody grinned. "Hey, the bacon came out really good today. Nice and crisp."

"Specially burned, just for you." He laid fresh strips in the pan and turned down the flame. He and Quinlan both liked their bacon less crunchy. Just as it got to sizzling good, the last member of their party came in, still sleepy eyed and dressed in khaki shorts and grey t-shirt.

"Hey, kid," he said, brushing Murray's arm lightly with his shoulder. "They've got you cooking already?"

"I felt like it. I can slow this down if you want a shower."

"No, I'll eat first. How're you feeling?"

Nick and Cody glanced at each other, both a little ashamed not to have asked that.

"I'm fine. This'll be ready in five minutes."

"You're a fool, you know," Quinlan said, shaking his head. "Can't get back to working yourself to death soon enough, can you?"

"I guess not," Murray said with his gentle smile. "But I'm glad I got to see you in those shorts first."

"Don't push your luck, kiddo. Too easy to make a body disappear at sea."

"If you want to wash up before breakfast, you'd better hurry," was all he said. Quinlan nodded and headed up the stairs without a word.

"Are you really okay, Boz?" Cody asked when he was gone. "You look a little pale."

"I'm always pale, unless I'm burned. It was really nice of you to keep putting sunblock on me. And the lieutenant, too, even though he won't admit it."

"I can't believe you still call him that," Nick said, shaking his head.

"That's what I've always called him."

"And he calls you a fool."

"That's how I know he loves me, Nick. If he didn't, he wouldn't care if I was a fool or not."

"Yeah? And how many times a day does he threaten your life?"

"Depends on how often I talk back," Murray said with a fond smile. "Guys, he doesn't mean anything, it's just his way. You know he loves me. Or you should, he's risking enough to be here."

"I'm never going to understand you two," was all Nick could say.

"You don't have to. We're happy; that's all that matters."

"Are you?" Cody asked, not unkindly. "I mean because he's gone all the time. That's got to be hard."

"Yeah, it is. But now that you know, maybe I can talk about it sometimes and that'll help."

"We wish you'd talked about it before," Nick said. "There was no reason to suffer alone like you've been doing."

"It was his secret. I couldn't tell." He paused at the sound of footsteps in the salon, and the way his face brightened when he turned toward them was reassuring to his friends. Quinlan came in and took the plate Murray prepared for him, calling him kid and thanking him the way one would a friendly waitress, but Murray's expression was one of pure joy.

They sat down on one side of the small table and ate in companionable silence while Nick and Cody, sitting across from them, wondered that he should be so happy with so little. Even now, they didn't know the lieutenant well enough to understand that this little bit was just what he could show. Already, they had forgotten his incredible devotion in the hospital, and they had no idea of the true depths that still lay hidden. They really thought this little bit was everything.

***

Murray wouldn't admit that he was tired after breakfast, but he did allow that someone else could wash the dishes and wandered out on deck to see what was going on there. The ocean always looked different to him, no matter how often he saw it or how long he looked. Waves were like snowflakes and clouds, no two ever precisely the same.

He turned his chair so he could see over the side and thought about how nice it was, being out here with everyone he loved getting along so well. How lucky he was to have people looking after him, and a lover who liked cold showers so they didn't have to argue over hot water. A few days ago he'd been close to death, and hardly caring because he thought he'd already lost what he'd come to live for. He looked at the water and wondered when that had happened. When had love supplanted science in his heart? Or had he been confusing his heart and his mind all along?

"Hey, Boz," Cody called, coming down from the wheelhouse. "What's up?"

"Nothing. It's nice, isn't it? When nothing's up."

Cody sat down on the bench and resisted the urge to check his friend for fever.

"Yeah, I guess so. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. You're not going to tell me I'm pale again, are you?"

"No. I'm just wondering if you're handling things okay. Being sick and knowing that Ted's going to be leaving soon."

"I'm not really sick anymore, Cody. And he won't leave until I'm completely well. He promised."

"Then why were you crying last night?"

"I wasn't."

"No? Because it sure sounded like it."

"That wasn't crying, Cody, that was fucking. You know what that sounds like, don't you?" he asked with a small smile. "If you don't, you might remember what Rhett Butler said about eavesdroppers hearing highly instructive things."

"Okay," Cody said, torn between embarrassment and disbelief. "Can I ask you about something else?"

"You can ask me anything, you know that."

"Well, Nick and I were wondering, what's the deal with the rings? We kind of asked Ted when you were in the hospital and he got a little hostile."

"Really? I'd have thought it was perfectly obvious," Murray said, examining his hand as if expecting to see something different from what he'd seen an hour ago.

"Well, maybe to your advanced mind, it is. Did you guys get married in—wherever it is you go when you're sneaking off to see him?"

"Of course not," he said mildly. "I don't know of anywhere in the world that men can marry each other. But that doesn't mean they can't have a commitment, and a symbol of that commitment."

"And that's what you have? A commitment?"

"Isn't it obvious? We don't really talk about it, Cody. We never have. I don't know when he bought me the ring, or when he was going to give it to me. He told me to find it the first time I saw him after he—went away, and I figured out what it was from the engraving inside. Then, the next time I saw him, he had one, too. I always wore mine on my right hand, because people know me and they know I'm not married, but when I woke up in the hospital, it was on my left hand. I assumed he did that, so I left it. Actions speak louder than words, you know. Especially with the lieutenant."

"He wears his on his left hand," Cody said quietly. "I noticed that when he got here."

"That's another of those obvious actions. He's a stranger where he lives now, so it doesn't matter, anyway. I guess when he comes back for good, people will notice. But I'm hoping we'll have enough support in the community that it won't matter. Like you and Nick do."

"Yeah, well, we don't have obvious symbols. What will you say if someone asks?"

"I won't say anything. I can wear jewelry if I want. If it's some strange girl hitting on me, I might tell her I'm married. There's no harm in that."

"No, probably not," Cody said doubtfully. "So you really don't talk about your relationship? You just let him do things and make assumptions?"

"You make it sound so terrible, but there's really nothing to talk about. I know he loves me because he's said so. Maybe not every day, but he doesn't have to. I know he doesn't just stop overnight. I know he doesn't stop when he's away, and if I didn't, the risks he takes to see me would prove it. I know it looks strange to you, but we're not like you. I understand him, the way I understand Latin and quantum mechanics. I can't explain any of those things to you, but that doesn't make them any less true."

"Yeah, but people aren't mathematical equations. They change. They keep secrets and they have their own motives."

"You don't know anything about quantum physics, do you?" Murray laughed.

"No, I guess not. And I like Ted. I do. More than I ever thought I would, even. It's just strange to me, that's all."

"But I've always been strange to you, haven't I?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Cody smiled and Murray knew it was okay. "Here he is now. Hey, Ted."

"Allen," he said tersely, suspecting they had been talking about him and not sure how he felt about it. Murray sat up on the lounge chair and slid forward so Quinlan could sit behind him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And apparently it was. Murray lay back against the broad chest with a happy sigh, but his eyes were pleading with his friend to understand. Or, lacking that, accept. Quinlan didn't see Murray's face but he saw Cody's, and wrapped his arms around the thin man as if to protect him from something.

"I'm gonna go see if Nick needs help with anything. You guys up for a little fishing after lunch?"

"Oh, yes, that would be fun," Murray said cheerfully. "Wouldn't it, Lieutenant?"

"Sure, kid. Whatever you want," he said, sounding bored. Cody got up and went in, still shaking his head at how little it took to please his friend. When he was gone, Quinlan bent and nipped at Murray's throat, whispering, "Then, after that, you can fuck me in the shower."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh. And I don't want to hear any more of that balance of power shit. You gotta learn to take things as they come, kid."

"Yes, sir," he grinned and got bitten again for his trouble.

Only once had Murray ever tried to discuss the precarious balance between them, and Quinlan had told him, very kindly, with no rancor or sarcasm at all, that it wasn't something that could stand up to scientific scrutiny. Murray had never met anything that he didn't feel would be better for a little scrutiny, but he wasn't about to start a fight that might upset the balance even more.

So he didn't bring it up again, but he did think about it sometimes. About how he had never felt encouraged to use his lover's first name, and only did so after having been first-named himself, which only happened in bed, and even then not always. How he said Lieutenant, not to emphasize that he was himself a colonel, but rather to disguise it. How they did what Quinlan wanted most of the time, because Murray could relate to his pleasures without feeling small or foolish, as Quinlan so often did when trying to relate to Murray.

Murray thought about how tall and skinny and smart balanced against short and strong, about dominance and submission, brains versus brawn, and wondered if it made any real sense at all. He'd learned very young that short boys and men were often bullies to compensate for their perceived inadequacy of stature, but how did that fit with the incredible tenderness he'd experienced so often from this man? Could his friends ever understand what it was like to lay down willingly before one who could break him but would never try? Could the strong ever truly grasp what it was to submit to strength?

They thought he should seek control, but he knew better. He couldn't dominate physically, because he was already the intellectual superior. If he took both, if he even tried, his partner would have nothing. Quinlan had spent his whole life putting together the little he needed to get along with himself, and Murray wouldn't be doing either of them any favors by messing with it.

No, things were right the way they were. Power couldn't shift back and forth between them, as it did between Nick and Cody. It had to remain stable, each with his own piece, or the whole system would fail. And even though he wouldn't talk about it, Murray thought the lieutenant knew that, too.

"How come you're so quiet all of a sudden?" Quinlan asked.

"Just thinking about that shower," he said, shifting just a little against the erection pressing into the small of his back. Quinlan sighed, a small private sound of pleasure, and reciprocated by sliding his hand into Murray's groin, fondling him gently through his jeans. They had all day, and anticipation would only sweeten the final act.

***

It didn't get too hot that day and Nick brought lunch up on deck. Murray moved to the bench and put his feet in Quinlan's lap, the sort of thing that his friends would have guessed he didn't do, either out of respect, or possibly fear of having his legs broken. But Quinlan ate his sandwich one handed and wrapped his other hand loosely around Murray's ankle. It was the sort of thing that reassured the guys that Murray would be okay, that maybe he knew what he was doing after all.

Cody took the dishes down to the galley and washed them while Nick got out the fishing rods. Murray wanted to help, but he looked tired, and they convinced him to sit and rest by telling him he'd be making supper again. Fish stew, if they caught anything and grilled steaks if they didn't. But there would be fish. It was almost impossible that between the four of them, they couldn't catch enough for a respectable stew.

Murray moved his chair so he could put his feet up on the bench, and Quinlan sat on his right side, as he always did. Cody was on Murray's left, Nick beside him, buckets of bait and sea water strategically placed where everyone could reach. The fish were plentiful and everyone caught their share.

Nick caught the last fish of the day. He was holding it in his left hand and working the hook free with his right when the fish slipped away. It hit the deck and the hook went into Nick's hand, bringing forth a single sharp sound of pain, followed by a string of obscenities.

"What is it?" Murray asked, picking up the fish and leaning around Cody, who had turned to see what was wrong.

"Hooked himself," Cody said shortly. "Give it here, Nick. Let me have a look."

The single barb hook had gone into the flesh between his thumb and forefinger, through the muscle and not quite out the other side.

"You're gonna have to cut it off and push it through for me," Nick said. "Who has the wire cutters?"

"Right here," Cody said, pulling a pair from his tackle box. "But maybe I'm not the man for the job. Murray's got the steady hands around here. Like a surgeon, right, Boz?"

"Yes," he said hesitantly. "I can do it, but I think Nick would rather have you."

"No, let Cody do the comforting and hand holding," Nick said. "He doesn't like blood."

Murray didn't either, but he could see that it was the right thing. Cody wouldn't be able to put aside his fear of hurting Nick, and this was no time for uncertainty.

"Yeah, good choice," Cody said almost eagerly. "I'm really more the assistant type."

"Great, assistant," Nick muttered. "Let's get this over with."

"Wait," Murray said. "I'm not ready. That hook's kind of nasty. It could get infected if we're not careful. Cody, would you go get the isopropyl alcohol and a clean towel?"

"Isopropyl?"

"Rubbing alcohol. If there isn't any in the head, there's a gallon jug in my room."

"You're going to put alcohol on it?" Cody asked doubtfully. "That's really going to hurt."

"Not as much as the infection he'll probably get if I don't. Just hurry. Nick's right; we need to get it over with."

Cody checked the head but there wasn't any isopropyl there. He grabbed a towel and went on to Murray's room, wondering why the guy needed a gallon of rubbing alcohol. When he got back, Murray was on the bench facing Nick, examining his hand, and Quinlan sat at right angles to them, apparently for the task of steadying Nick's hand for the procedure.

"Let me cut the hook first," Murray said quietly, "then, Lieutenant, you pour the alcohol over his hand. Over the hook, and on both sides. Don't use it all, but be generous. A couple of cups, I think. And, Cody, could you run some more water over the deck first? This could get—flammable."

"Sure, hang on." Cody started the seawater pump and hosed down the boards with that quick efficiency he always displayed when dealing with his boat. Then he pulled up a chair on Nick's other side and held his uninjured hand while Murray snipped off the butt end of the hook, as close to the skin as he dared.

"Alcohol now," Murray said quietly. Nick lowered his head to Cody's shoulder and pressed his face into his neck. It burned like cold fire, from his fingertips to his elbow, and he bit his lip to hold back a shameful whimper. Then the alcohol went away and he felt Quinlan's hands around his wrist, holding him like an iron vice, and the sudden stab of agony as the hook went through, punching out the back of his hand.

Quinlan poured more alcohol into the wound and blood flowed freely, mixing together and washing pink across the deck. Cody looked sick and Murray tried not to look at all. But after taking a few seconds to recover, he rubbed his eyes with his fingertips and bound Nick's hand with the towel.

"Cody, can you take him down to the head and bandage him up? Put a lot of antibiotic ointment on it, get it inside if you can, and wrap it up with gauze."

"Sure. You okay, Nick?"

"Yeah. It fucking hurts like hell, but I'm okay. Come on, Cody. Let's go patch me up."

They went inside together while Quinlan began packing up their gear. The fishing was done for the day, but that was all right. They'd caught enough.

"You did good there, kid," he said casually.

"It's no big deal. Cody would have done it if I hadn't been here. He only gets squeamish when he can afford to."

"Maybe, but you stepped up. That's the important thing." He didn't say he was proud of him, but Murray knew he was and blushed faintly under the praise.

"He would have done it for me," was all he said.

***

Cody made quick work of bandaging Nick's hand, then bound a plastic bag around it and hustled him into the shower.

"You want to help me out, babe?" he called. "This bag's not exactly the thing for handling soap."

"One second." Cody stripped off his clothes and stepped in behind him, taking the bar of soap away. "Keep your hand up and it won't hurt so much."

"What the fuck do you know?" Nick asked in mock anger.

"Come on, I've hooked myself a dozen times. Never through the muscle, maybe, but I know it hurts. Just keep your hand up."

Nick sighed and put his hand against the wall over his head. Cody rubbed the soap into a washcloth and bathed him, slowly and thoroughly. Then he washed Nick's hair, pressing gently against him, kissing him softly as he worked. Nick leaned into him with a sigh, the pain in his hand fading to nothing compared with the smooth length of Cody's body against his.

"I can't move very well with you laying on me," Cody said after a while.

"Yeah? You usually do okay."

"Well, right now I have scales on me." He pushed Nick against the wall and Nick turned around to watch him soap himself. No matter how many times he saw that, it just didn't get old. Cody glanced up, saw his rapt expression, and smiled. "Keep your hand up, babe."

"Blow me. Babe," Nick replied, smiling back.

"Not in here. We gotta share the hot water, remember?" Cody washed his hair quickly, turned off the water and grabbed a towel. "Keep your hand up," he said again, rubbing Nick dry.

"You sure seem to like giving orders today. I think LT's rubbing off on you."

"Hey, I'm just trying to look out for you. We can't exactly go to a doctor if that thing starts giving you trouble. Not as long as we've got the undercover lover on board."

"Yeah, well, I'll be okay. I might let you take care of me for a little while, though. If you want to. You can wash dishes and shit," Nick said cheerfully.

"I'd love to. You already got me out of cleaning fish, so I guess I owe you one."

They slipped into their cabin, wrapped only in towels, and Cody started to dress. Nick stopped him with a light touch on the shoulder and pulled him into a kiss. They sank down onto the bed and Nick forgot all about his hand.

***

Up on deck, Quinlan killed the fish, gutted and decapitated them, while Murray sat by, making small talk and trying not to watch.

"You can pull a hook out of your best friend's hand, but you can't gut a fish," Quinlan said, shaking his head.

"The hook thing was necessary. And quicker. I'll clean up and make supper. That's fair, isn't it?"

"Bozinsky, you worry too much about fair. Someone gives you something, you ought to take it once in a while."

"I think I take plenty," Murray said. "You're giving me something nice later, aren't you?"

"Well, that's not just for you," he said with a wink. Murray smiled and lay back on the bench, his arms behind his head, staring up at the clouds.

"You're so good to me," he said dreamily. "Is that just for me, or were you ever this good to anyone before?"

"You've got a real fucked up idea of what's good, kid."

"Lucky for me. Lieutenant, what really happened to your wife?"

"What do you want to hear about that for?"

"I don't know. You ask me about myself all the time."

"You're interesting. My failed marriage isn't." He was gutting fish, not looking up, and Murray went on peacefully.

"I just wonder why you got divorced."

"She left me, that's all. She was a waitress in a bar I used to go to. Not much of a woman, but real good looking. God, the ass on her—well, never mind. She slung it around pretty good, but I was the one that knocked her up, so I married her. She stayed 'til Teddy was in college, and then she left. Went to Houston and started slinging it around the bars down there. Our marriage was just an intermission in her whoring, and not much of one."

Murray wondered how much of that was true and how much was the bitterness that naturally followed divorce, but he didn't ask. What he said was, "Were you sad? I mean, did you miss her?"

"I kept her damned cats, didn't I?"

"I don't know what that means."

"Neither do I, kid. I'm done here. You want to hose down the deck, and I'll take the fish inside."

Murray got up and started the pump without comment. In a year, that was the most information he'd gotten about the woman his man had once loved, and he still didn't know if love was the word. Maybe it didn't matter. But he wondered.

When he was finished, he went down to the head to clean up, and found Quinlan waiting for him. He was leaning against the sink, ankles crossed, wearing that smile Murray knew so well, the one that had always meant he had something on them, that he was going to spring a trap. But the traps had changed over the last year, and when he had something on Murray now, it was usually entertaining.

"There you are," he said, still smiling. "Lock the door."

"Nick and Cody will hear us," Murray said, even as he obeyed.

"So? We can hear them. You think it matters?"

Murray had gotten used to the sounds of his friends' pleasure, had learned to tune them out, but when he listened, he realized he could hear them in their cabin, Nick's deep moans and Cody's breathless sighs, so much a part of his life for so long. There were times it had excited him, and times it had driven him off the boat in sorrow and frustration. But now it just didn't matter. He wouldn't have noticed if Quinlan hadn't pointed it out, and as soon as he began to take off his wet, fish scaled clothes, he stopped hearing it again.

"Think they left us any hot water?" he asked, reaching for Quinlan's belt.

"You think we'll need it? You look pretty hot already, kid. And I'm going to make you hotter."

His hands were trembling suddenly on the buckle but he managed to undo it. He slipped the button and pulled down the zipper, stealing a kiss at the same time. Quinlan uncrossed his ankles and spread his legs, letting Murray in. Murray knew he was wanted to dominate for once, and that he couldn't mention the balance of power thing again, so he went with it. He'd been the hero today. He was entitled.

His hands slid under Quinlan's shirt, pushing it up and over his head. Then Quinlan's hands were on Murray's bare ass, squeezing, pulling him close, pressing Murray's growing erection against his own. Murray braced one hand on the edge of the sink and wrapped the other around the back of Quinlan's neck, pushing his tongue into the welcoming mouth. He tasted and explored for long minutes, then pulled back and smiled that small, knowing smile that always made Quinlan crazy with need.

"I—uh—think you still have too many clothes on," he said, not sounding at all like the mild mannered geek that the older man knew so well. But that was okay. Quinlan liked this guy, too. He stripped off the rest of his clothes while Murray turned on the water, making it lukewarm so that whatever hot water there was would last. Then it was Quinlan who turned dominant, pushing him almost roughly into the shower, Murray grabbing his arm to keep from falling. He let Quinlan back him against the wall, bite his throat and hump him just a little, then reached for the soap.

"Still need to get clean," he murmured, lathering his hands and running them over the stocky body. After a moment, Quinlan took the soap away and returned the favor. He took his time, touching the thin man everywhere, soaping and rubbing, then guiding him into the spray to rinse. He knelt for a moment and took Murray's cock in his mouth, knowing that psychologically it bothered him, but that physically, he loved it. Torn, Murray held his head, thrust lightly three times, and then pushed him away.

"I should be the one doing that," he said quietly.

"I'm not stopping you," Quinlan said, rising easily.

Murray pushed him against the wall, suddenly strong, and went to his knees. He knew what the lieutenant wanted, and he wanted it, too, but Murray thought that if he could get him to come now, he would still be satisfied. Only he didn't get the chance. Quinlan held him for a minute to let the tension build, reveling in the sweet mouth and talented hands. But ultimately he saw through the plot and pulled Murray to his feet.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, nipping lightly at Quinlan's throat.

"Why the uncertainty, Bozinsky? You always know what you're doing."

"Not always. We've been together for a year and I've done this exactly twice. I—I really don't want to hurt you."

"Nothing you do can hurt me," he said with confidence. It wasn't true, of course. There were at least fifty things Murray could do that would destroy him, but none of them were physical. Murray was aware of that fact, but it fell squarely under the heading of things that they never talked about.

"I wish I was so sure."

"You know how, kid. I've done it to you enough times."

Murray trembled a little, thinking how much he liked it and how unfair it was of him not to share. But he was rather well equipped, Quinlan's joke about the Titan missile not being entirely misplaced, and when he was really far gone, he sometimes forgot to be careful. He liked to be free to be exuberant, to move hard and fast, and penetration had always unnerved him a little, even with women. Being inside someone's body was a huge responsibility.

"You're thinking too much again, Bozinsky. I can practically hear it."

For some reason, even the vague insult was arousing, and Murray kissed him hard, stealing his breath, making him lean against the wall for support. He couldn't know the whole truth, how Quinlan needed to let go sometimes and feel someone else in control. How his life sometimes overwhelmed him with its demands to be strong. That knowledge was the one secret he held onto, even as he turned to the wall and relinquished everything else.

There was a bottle of water-resistant lube in the shower caddy and Murray coated his fingers liberally. He licked up Quinlan's spine, biting gently at his neck and shoulders, making him moan before touching him. When he did, he was cautious. More cautious than he liked when he was on the receiving end, and his lover reacted to it the same way, with soft groans and impatient movements.

But Murray wouldn't be rushed. He didn't have the experience, and he wasn't about to take any chances. He spent a long time preparing his lover; not out of any desire to torture him, but rather to be sure he was really ready. Quinlan finally broke, begging with a thinly concealed demand, and Murray pushed into him, a long, slow slide into heaven.

"Oh, kid, that's right," he groaned. "Give it to me. Just—_goddamn_."

Murray pulled back and thrust in again slowly, trying to ignore the insistent movement of Quinlan's body beneath his. Self control was a battle and Murray was going to lose, but it was so sweet. So hot and tight and wonderful, it took every ounce of will he possessed not to ravage and plunder, as the soft, hissing curses demanded. Instead, he slid his hand down the compact, muscular body and gripped Quinlan's cock, stroking to the rhythm of his thrusts.

"Don't—_harder_, Murray. Don't hold back," he said, hanging his head, not in submission, but so he could watch the talented fingers slide up and down his shaft.

"I don't want to hurt you," Murray whispered against his neck.

"I'll let you know if you do. Now shut up and fuck me already."

Still a little uncertain, he pulled back and thrust slowly, finding the sensitive gland and skating over it lightly. But that wasn't what Quinlan wanted, and he moved swiftly to make it a harder blow. Murray let him lead for a moment while he got the rhythm down, then took it up himself, fucking him hard and fast, jerking his cock roughly, delighting in the hoarse, desperate cries.

It was too intense to last long, but Murray made sure Quinlan came first, savoring his groans and the deep muscle spasms that pulled him inexorably over the edge. Murray came, sobbing and biting, bucking helplessly, driving as deep as he could. He had no thoughts now of responsibility or care, and that was what Quinlan wanted for him—to wipe his mind of everything but pleasure. Murray leaned against him, panting for breath, not withdrawing until he began to grow soft. He missed his lover almost at once.

***

"I'm telling you, LT, you don't want to play cards with Murray. You can't win."

"Funny, I never thought you were a quitter, Ryder. Here the kid takes a fishhook out of your hand and makes you a nice dinner, and you can't play cards with him?"

"All right, fine. You really want to play, I'll play. But not for money. I'm not that big a sucker."

"That's all right, we can just keep score," Murray said agreeably. "See, the lieutenant doesn't think I can shoot the moon whenever I want. But I say I can win a game in four hands without taking any points at all."

"He really can," Cody told Quinlan. "We don't need cards to prove it. You can take our word."

"Since when did you all become such cowards?"

"No, Lieutenant. If they don't want to play, we can't make them. We can just go to bed and read or something."

"I said we'd play," Nick sighed, digging the cards out of a drawer. "But not all night. I can't take a whole lot more humiliation." His hand still hurt and he felt incredibly foolish for hooking himself in front of everyone, though the fact that Quinlan hadn't ridiculed him did not go unnoticed.

They picked their places around the table as Cody dealt the cards, taking a minute to arrange their hands and decide what to trade. Murray gave Cody both his diamonds and a low spade, giving away part of his ploy. But Cody didn't know what he held in the other suits or what his heart situation was, and Quinlan, who was on Murray's other side, did the natural thing by giving him the queen of spades. But it was early. He would learn.

Nick had the two of clubs and played first. Murray played the ten and took the trick. After that, he controlled the play for the rest of the hand, playing high cards and crossing suits, keeping the queen and making Nick break hearts with clubs.

"See, what did I tell you?" Cody said. "He's doing it right now. Someone stop him, for god's sake."

"With what?" Nick shot back. "I don't have any clubs. Do you?"

No one did, and Murray shot the moon. On the next hand, he got three low hearts and passed them to Quinlan. Cody didn't give him any, choosing instead to stick him with spades. Murray played his clubs, saving the ace for last so he could take control. Then he played the four of spades and the others realized they had nothing better than the two and three to counter with. Murray played his spades patiently, one by one, until he had all the diamonds and they started giving him hearts.

"Fuck," Nick said, playing the six of hearts. "He's fucking doing it again. Why didn't you stop him?"

"Why didn't I?" Cody snapped. "I'm not the one who played those low clubs and let him take over."

"Well, whoever has the ace of hearts, don't give it to him."

But there was nothing they could do. All Murray had was spades, and he had all of them, so he took every trick once again.

"Fuck," Nick muttered, shuffling the cards while Murray dutifully wrote down their scores.

This time Nick passed to Murray and he deliberately gave him two low clubs and a diamond. But it didn't matter. Murray had a handful of hearts and gave back three low spades. He had to be more careful this time, counting cards and making sure he got his low ones out fast, then settling back to clean up with his high spades and hearts. In just a couple of minutes, he'd taken all the cards.

"You can't do it again," Quinlan said as he shuffled. "No one shoots the moon on a hold hand. Can't be done."

"I've done it," Murray shrugged. "The odds are against it, I admit, but in cards, people do get lucky."

"Not that lucky," he said flatly. "Not four times in a row, with a hold hand. Not gonna happen."

"I've seen him do it," Cody said. "Never underestimate a genius, especially a genius with cards."

Quinlan dealt and Murray arranged his cards by suit, amazed to see that he had nearly a full run of hearts. He didn't have the queen of spades, but he could get her. All he had for spades was the king and ace. It would be easy.

Cody had the two of clubs and Quinlan took the trick with the ten. He played the four next, and Murray took it with the jack. After that, he had control. He switched to spades, and Nick played the queen, thinking he could stick Murray with the thirteen points and then take a few hearts to break his run. He had the ten and that should do it.

Hearts was broken when Cody played the two on Murray's king of spades. Then Murray played the queen of hearts, and Nick had no choice but to throw his ten.

"Son of a _bitch_," he muttered. "Whoever has the ace of hearts, this would be a good time."

"You always try to cheat," Murray said reprovingly, gathering the cards. "But it _is_ good advice," he added, and played the ace. Only Quinlan had any hearts left, and Murray took them one by one. Four hands, one hundred and four points for Cody, Nick and Quinlan, and none for Murray.

"This is how you paid your way through school, isn't it?" Quinlan asked, snatching the cards to shuffle.

"We're not going to keep this up, are we?" Nick sighed.

"One more game," Quinlan said. "I'm not convinced it isn't just luck."

"I might be a sucker," Nick said, "but you're a glutton for punishment, LT."

Murray shot the moon on the first three hands, but he decided not to try on the hold hand. He broke hearts when Nick played a spade, then undercut Cody when he played a heart so Cody had to take it. That guaranteed no one could shoot the moon, and all Murray had to do was not take any hearts himself. He didn't.

On the next hand, Quinlan set himself up to shoot the moon with the ace, king and queen of hearts. But when Cody played the queen of spades on Murray's king, he knew he couldn't do it and played the ace of hearts as a little _screw you_ revenge card.

"Son of a _bitch_," Nick said again. "Why the hell did you do that? Now he's gonna do it again."

"He is not," Quinlan said.

"No, he's doing it," Cody sighed. "You had a chance, Ted, and you gave it away."

"No, I didn't," he said, still confident in his high hearts. But Murray never lost control of the play and eventually he made Quinlan play his hearts on diamonds.

"That was, without a doubt, the most fucked up card game I've ever had the pleasure of participating in. Bozinsky told me you two were pathetic, but I had no idea."

"Jeez, thanks, Boz," Cody said.

"I never said that. Seriously, guys. I just said you couldn't beat me."

"But you didn't say we were pathetic," Nick clarified.

"I just said you wouldn't play me anymore. And that's true. If the lieutenant hadn't made you, you wouldn't have. It's no big deal."

"Let's face it, Nick," Cody said, clapping him on the shoulder. "He's getting stuff from Ted that he doesn't get from us."

"Damn well better be," Quinlan said and Murray blushed so darkly that everyone laughed. "Come on, kid, I've had enough cards." It could have been cruel, taking him off to bed right after a remark like that, but Quinlan meant it as an act of mercy, getting him away before there could be any more teasing.

"Don't forget your antibiotic," Nick called as they headed down the stairs. Murray waved over his shoulder and stopped in the galley for a glass of water to swallow it with. Then they went into Murray's cabin and shut the door.

"We should have tried harder to beat him," Cody said.

"I don't know about you, but I _was_ trying. I used to be great at hearts, man. No one in the city jail could beat me. I don't know how he fucking does it."

"He's a mathematical genius and you're playing cards, buddy. You should be surprised if he didn't."

"Yeah, well, all I care about right now is my aching hand. Murray gave me one of his painkillers, and I'm gonna take it and go to bed."

"I'm right behind you. Let's have a look at that wound first, though. Make sure it's not going bad on you."

They unwrapped it in the head and Nick washed his hands carefully with soap and water. It was a little red, but not really inflamed, so Cody applied liberal amounts of ointment and wrapped it in fresh gauze. Nick took the Percocet Murray gave him and went to sleep at once, though, as it turned out, not for long.

***

"I gotta admit, I didn't think you could do it," Quinlan said, undressing in Murray's cramped room. "I've played a lot of Hearts, and seen even more, and I've never seen anyone win every hand, let alone shoot the moon on the hold. Even if I could tell the guys at the station, I wouldn't. They'd never believe me."

"I can't believe this is what it takes to make you proud of me," Murray laughed. "I'm a brilliant, well respected scientist, one of the top programmers in the world—I go to London and Heidelberg to teach at internationally recognized universities, and you're impressed because I can win at Hearts."

"No, that's not the only thing that impresses me. I also think you make a great cup of tea."

Murray cocked his head, as if unsure he'd heard correctly, and opened his mouth to speak. Quinlan slipped an arm around his waist and pulled him close, kissing him hard before he had the chance.

"Trying to shut me up?" he asked when Quinlan released him.

"Seems like the only thing that works is sticking something in your mouth."

"Well, that's not the only thing, but I like it." He stripped down to his shorts and got into bed, forgoing his pajamas because Quinlan liked to feel his bare skin, and never allowed him to get cold.

"Did you take one of those pills, too?" He'd had one earlier and Quinlan was worried about both his pain levels and his ability to stomach them.

"Yeah. My back still hurts. Not much," he hastened to add, when he saw the concern in the other man's face. "Just—just enough. The doctor said it would be better in a couple more days."

"You're lucky you didn't end up with kidney stones, or worse," Quinlan said, lying down beside him. "I can't believe you could be that stupid. Heidelberg guest professor, and he can't even get himself to the doctor before he's at death's door. What the hell were you thinking?"

Murray was a little surprised. He'd assumed that since this hadn't come up yet, it wasn't going to, and now he was unprepared. But Quinlan held out his arm and Murray moved closer, resting his head on the broad shoulder, sharing the warmth that the other man generated so easily.

"I was so depressed and anxious and just—_not myself_, all the time, I didn't really even notice I was sick. I didn't want to eat and I was sleeping a lot, but it wasn't different. I've been like that since you left. Then, when I did know, I wanted to see you. I was scared that if I didn't show up, I might not have another chance. You might think it was because I didn't want to. I guess that just goes to show how sick I was, because I know better. I know you wouldn't think that." He was turning the ring on his finger again, thinking about how the man who gave it to him, the man who was committed to him, had come running the moment he knew Murray needed him. He was ashamed by his own lack of faith.

"You've got to be more careful, kid," was all he said. "We figure I've got another two months on this job, and you have to take care of yourself until I can come back."

"I know. I'm going to do better. It's hard for me to lie and keep secrets, especially with Nick and Cody. Now that they know, it's going to be a lot easier."

"Good. Because I don't want to be worried about you all the time."

Murray nodded and was suddenly struck by an overwhelming nausea. His skin flushed and sweat broke out all over his body, noticeable even to the man who held him.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "What is it, kid?"

"Nothing. Just let me lie still for a second."

"Murray, what's going on?" he demanded, his fear showing in his use of that name.

"I—oh, jeez." Suddenly he was scrambling out of bed, staggering for the door, holding onto the walls for support. Quinlan leapt up, pulled on his pants and followed, knowing what was happening now, if not why. He caught up with Murray in the salon, kept him from falling down the aft stairs, and was right behind him when he stumbled into the head and went to his knees in front of the toilet. Quinlan knelt beside him and laid a cool hand on the back of his neck as he vomited, over and over, until there was nothing left.

At some point, the noise roused Cody and Nick and they appeared in the doorway, holding hands, uncertain what to do. Quinlan looked up once and shook his head, telling them that he had it under control, but they didn't leave. They'd been looking after Murray for so long, it wasn't possible to stop worrying now, just because someone else was there. But seeing the tender way Quinlan held him, comforting him during his weakest, most unattractive moment, there was no question that they weren't really needed.

After a moment, Cody got a washcloth and soaked it in cold water. Quinlan took it and pressed it to Murray's forehead, easing him back on his heels, holding him as he tried to steady his breathing.

"Better?"

"Yeah, I think—wait," he said and pulled away, retching miserably one last time. Quinlan held him, rubbing his back, just waiting for it to be over.

"What's going on?" Cody asked finally. "Should we go back to port? Get him to a doctor?"

"No, I don't think so. It's the drugs, isn't it, kid? The Percocet?"

"Yeah. I guess I shouldn't have had that second one. But I feel better now."

"All right. Are you ready to try standing?"

Murray nodded, so lightly it was felt more than seen, and Quinlan helped him up. He was trembling, cold from the medication and weak from vomiting, but insisted on brushing his teeth before going back to bed. Quinlan stood close, one hand on his back to steady him, while his friends watched from the doorway.

"Okay, kid, let's get you back to bed," he said, still giving orders, but in a gentler way than Nick and Cody were accustomed to hearing.

"Sure. And maybe you could get me some crackers or something?"

"I'll make you some toast. It'll make you feel warmer."

Cody stepped out of the way, pulling Nick with him, and they watched as Quinlan led Murray away, that possessive hand still in the middle of his back.

"I'm pretty sure we're not supposed to see stuff like that," Nick said, turning back to their cabin.

"Probably not. Hard to reconcile it with all those bruises Murray has." It was the first time they'd seen him without a shirt since he got out of the hospital and the marks on his body were new.

"Well, we've got a few ourselves," Nick shrugged. "They're just hickeys. I don't think LT's beating him."

"No, of course not," Cody said, taking off his robe and getting into bed. "It's just hard to imagine Murray liking rough sex. Although I had my doubts about that time he was in jail. Remember those welts he had from the handcuffs?"

"Yeah. You know, I always thought then he should have been more upset about that. You think it wasn't the arresting officer?"

"I did, but now I'd bet money it was Ted."

Murray wasn't thinking about rough jail sex as he got into bed at the other end of the boat. He was remembering the day he and the lieutenant first became friends. It was his turn now to be cared for, to have tea and toast brought to him in bed, and though it didn't end with mutual hand jobs, as that first day had, he went to sleep happily enough. Quinlan was there to hold him, keep him warm, and no one had to leave tonight.


End file.
